


Uninhibited: Plot

by DepravedDevil



Series: Uninhibited [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Multi, Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:59:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4082428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DepravedDevil/pseuds/DepravedDevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after his tryst with Nymphadora, Harry is woken early by Hermione. Unfortunately, nothing happens just yet, though that may have to do with Ron, asleep and snoring on the other side of the room. And, so, Harry goes downstairs and speaks with those in Grimmald place until Mrs Weasley recommends he head up to get some more sleep.<br/>No sex in this chapter, I'm afraid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uninhibited: Plot

When Harry woke early the next morning; he had to move to Ron's and his room in order to hide his night with Nymphadora; not that he was ashamed, but Mrs Weasley, at the very least, would have words for the pair if it got out that they had been fucking the night before, the black haired lad began to think on the immediate future. He had known that he had the ability for a while now, but it became evident in the past 24 hours just how _strong_ that ability was. And overnight it had become even clearer that there was no way to escape it, even if he had wanted to; in the three or four hours of sleep he'd gotten, he'd grown. Not massively, but he would bet that he was pushing 6ft now, so that was a two inch spurt, and that should not be possible. His balls felt slightly... heavier, as well. Perhaps his cock had grown also; he could not say for sure, though. He'd never actually measured it soft.

Hopefully, that was a one-time thing. Because he had just now started flexing his metaphorical muscles with the power, perhaps? His father had said that it would be quite quick, but Harry'd interpreted that to mean a couple of months, at the very least; certainly not days.

As he crept out of Tonks' room after scrawling a quick note to her; having pulled a pair of boxers on quickly before stepping onto the balcony, Harry contemplated who he wanted to use this gift on. His appetite was large, and the options were many after he had quite enjoyed his time with Dudley the day before. On top of this, he knew that males that he liked, instead of those he was fucking to teach a lesson in manners, would be far more enjoyable than that time. In this house, alone, there were the Weasleys that he knew of. Ron would be his go to for most things man-related. Why not this? Sleeping with twins had always been appealing to Harry, even if it had been Parvarti and Padma that he thought of before now. Mr Weasley was probably hetero, given that he had had so many kids in his marriage, and Harry would not risk doing harm to a married couple.

The women that this house promised were plenty, as well. Tonks, of course, was tried and true; Harry had never been so tempted to do something in his life, as he wanted to go back into her room and wake her up to his tongue back on her peach. On top of that, there was Hermione; Harry was hoping that his best friend was attracted to him, and believed that she was. She was not particularly subtle in her 'covert' glances, and in retrospect he was convinced that the girl had feelings for him. He imagined that Hermione was the epitome of the male fantasy; a librarian that could take off her glasses and ride you like a bronco. He shook his head clear of those thoughts, however, as his blood flow shifted and he felt the temptation to return to his lover's room double; becoming strong enough that the walk from her room across the landing felt like a mile-long trek. Ginny, he was unsure of. She was younger than him, and was always a little... timid to accept such a subject. She turned 16 quite early in the next year, though, so perhaps he'd shag her in October. Okay, he relented to himself, he'd very likely do it. Ginny was very pretty, after all, if in a slightly more sporty, and subdued, sense than Tonks or Fleur. Mrs Weasley was the only other woman he was certain would be present, and Harry began a mental debate with himself on that topic. Even if he had never thought of her as massively attractive, given that she wore clothes that did nothing to show her form, he wondered whether he would fuck her. He quickly reached the conclusion that he probably would, in other circumstances. His inheritance seemed to be changing his attitude to sex, after all. Previously, Harry had thought of it as an act of love, now... not so much.

But he wouldn't shag Mrs Weasley. She was married, and Harry felt guilty even thinking about breaking up the Weasley parents; they had been very good to him, and Arthur would surely be crushed if his wife fucked Harry. Oh, well. Even a Potter could not have them all. Harry could survive not having Molly Weasley, he was sure, though he was not 100% that he would not take the chance should it come up.

By that time, Harry was carefully opening the door to his shared room, and calming himself as best as he could. He was aware of the fact that he had not kept a good enough lid on his power yesterday; one glance at Tonks had seemed to plant the need in her mind, and an Auror almost certainly possessed better control than the other women, and for that matter men, in this house. If that happened during conversation tomorrow, one of the others, Hermione, for example, might end up fucking him right there in front of everybody,

Thankfully, Ron slept the sleep of the dead, and Harry easily sneaked into the empty bed and closed his eyes, drifting back to sleep with some difficulty as he, eventually, dismissed the images he had given himself over the past minute or so. The more effective method would be to masturbate, but even Ron might wake up if he did.

\------------

The next time he woke, Harry found himself thanking whatever deity might be listening that he had slept on his front. His raging boner might have attracted some attention from Hermione, had he not, as she sat on the side of his bed with a friendly smile that lasted all of five seconds. He kept his eyes closed for a moment, and checked that they would not inspire any uncontrollable lust from her, before opening them. His emerald orbs met Hermione's brown, and he grinned a crooked grin at her.

“Hey, Mione,” He said, in a sleepy tone, as he exercised some aspect of his powers and his dick began to deflate.

“Harry,” the bushy-haired girl began. “What happened to you?” She, unthinkingly, ran her fingers down his newly broad, muscular back.

“Mm?” Harry half-asked, half-moaned, as before she stopped with a blush. “Oh, er... Family gifts combined with growth spurt.” the black haired teen answered, as he pushed himself up, on muscular arms, into kneeling position and then twisted to sit facing Hermione.

“Family gifts?” She asked, in a curious tone, as she stared at the new-and-improved Harry's emerald eyes.

“I's a long story, 'Mione,” Harry said, with a grin. “And I'm starving. I'll tell you later.” The girl pouted briefly, before relenting, and agreeing with a nod. “D'you think we should wake him?” Harry asked, nodding at Ron's sleeping form. His snores were quieter at the moment, as he chewed on, and cuddled with, a pillow.

“It's only early,” Hermione shook her head. “He'll get grouchy and ruin your arrival if we wake him before nine.”

“Wait... what time _is_ it?” Harry asked.

“Half-Seven.” The girl answered, simply.

“Half... 'Mione. you realise I got here at like three AM, don't you?” He wondered.

“Well... not exactly, but I knew it would be late,” Hermione looked at her hands, sitting in her lap, and continued. “I wanted to speak with you, though. I've been up and waiting for you to wake since Six-thirty, if that helps; I just couldn't wait any longer.” She smiled remorsefully at her best friend, and Harry relented with a sigh.

“Fine. Just... try to resist for a while longer, if the situation repeats itself in the future, okay?” The girl nodded, and stood, ready to go and get some breakfast, waiting for Harry.

“C'mon, then.” She grinned at him, only for Harry to raise an eyebrow at her. “What?”

“All that I'm wearing is a pair of boxers, that are rather tight, 'Mione. If you'd like to perve on me, that's fine, but I never thought you were the type.” He smirked, as the girl turned crimson and promptly left the room with a squeak. Harry stood, stretched, and grabbed his trunk, opening it to find another of the formless shirts he'd been given by the Dursley's and some faded jeans that were suddenly a little short. At least it hid the significance of his change somewhat; wearing the clothes that camouflaged every hint of muscle on his body, excluding his forearms. But that was not worth it, and Harry would ask someone to take him shopping soon so that he could finally purchase clothes of his own.

The two teens walked down the stairs in silence; Hermione reminding Harry to stay quiet lest he wake the evil-portrait, and headed into the kitchen. With a click, the door closed and Harry found that it was no more pleasant than the rest of the house. Everywhere was gloomy in this place.

“Few,” Hermione sighed. “Kreacher must be asleep. That's the house elf that lives here; even I find him unpleasant, though it is justifiable since he's been alone for so long.” She added at Harry's questioning look.

“House elf?” Harry repeated. “I didn't ask; who's house is this?” He asked his fellow occupant of the kitchen, only for a different voice to answer.

“That would be mine.” A man's voice said, from the doorway, in a hushed tone before he carefully closed the door. “Hey, Harry.” Sirius grinned a knowing grin at his godson, as Harry stared at him in surprise. “Been to Gringotts lately?”

“Yeah... how did you... oh, you recognise the change, I'm guessing. From my father?” Harry stepped up to the man, and pulled Sirius into a hug, surprised at finding the man here. “It's good to see you again.” Harry returned the grin.

“That's right,” Sirius nodded, as he examined his godson post-hug, holding him at arms' length. “And it's good to see you, as well.” He remarked, in a happy tone. “It's about time you got the gifts; you looked seriously unhealthy after your years with the Dursleys.” He clapped his godson on the shoulder, and let go of the teen.

“Morning Hermione.” Sirius smiled at the other occupant, who looked somewhat off-put at not knowing what Harry's gifts were, and, wrapping his arm around Harry's shoulder despite the fact that he was now the same size as his godfather, the animagus pulled him over to the table. “If I know Mrs Weasley, and I've grown rather familiar with her, unfortunately, she'll be down in a minute and will insist on cooking for Harry; though, for once, she won't be able to complain about you seeming underfed, what with your changes.” While Harry still had very little fat on his body, the muscle he'd been blessed with made up for the absence. “Now sit. Tell me about your holiday so far,” He instructed Harry, and the boy sat opposite his godfather. Was it just him, or was there an edge to Sirius' tone?

\-----------------------

Through the rest of the morning, Harry told people of his boring summer, and noticed the same concern in each of them; mirroring his godfather's. After Remus, arriving back from some minor mission, made a noise of relief at Harry describing a largely uneventful, if you discounted the parts he had censored, summer, Harry snapped at the two Marauders currently in the room with him.

“Okay, what the hell are you hiding from me?!” He demanded of his ex-proffessor.

“H-Hiding?” Remus gulped. “What makes you think I'm hiding anyth-”

“All of you! It's like you expect me to regale you with a story about being attacked by Centaurs, or something!”

“Not Centaurs,” It was not Remius who replied, but Sirius; deciding he might as well tell his godson. “There was a dementor attack in Little Whinging, and a Squib that lived there was kissed.”

“A Squib lived in Little Whinging?” Harry asked, with a frown. “Who?” He asked his godfather.

“Arabella Figg?” Sirius answered, wondering if the name would mean anything to Harry. y the look of shock, and slight sadness, he guessed it did.

“Damn,” Harry murmured. “Miss Figg's dead?” He asked his godfather, in a sad tone.

“I'm afraid so,” She effectively was; there was nothing between dying and being kissed by one of Azkaban's guards. “Did you know her?”

“Kind of,” Harry nodded. “I stayed with her a couple of times when the Dursleys went on holiday. I... it sucks that she died.” He shook his head sorrowfully. He had not liked her, per say, but that was not a fate he'd wish on anyone. Well, anyone except Death Eaters and their like. People of their nature deserved whatever they got.

“I'm sorry...” Sirius trailed off; he wasn't great at comforting people. Especially when he could not tell just how down Harry was. Something he was good at, though, was distracting. “Hey, Moony; did you notice the change in Harry over the summer?” He asked his old friend, and Remus instantly caught on to the tactic.

“I'm guessing he... came into his inheritance?” Remus grinned; both of them knew exactly what he meant by that little code.

“That he did. More than that, I think he... fulfilled the criteria early in the summer, and then must have had some repeat performances since then.” Harry was not sure whether he should be embarrassed at this, as the two continued to discuss Harry's exploits. They were talking about him having sex, Harry was sure, and the notion of this would have had him blushing up a storm only months before.

“I can't help but wonder who it will have been with, Padfoot,” Remus said, with a thoughtful expression, as he looked over at Harry.

“Well, I have a good idea for at least one of them. Probably the most recent, since he's been down here all morning.”

“Oh? And whoever could that be?” Remus and Sirius had known to look through the day, and Tonks' hungry looks were not all too subtle as she watched Harry's every movement; wanting a repeat performance.

“I believe it may have been my dear cousin.” Sirius said, with an attempt at a serious expression

“No!” Remus gasped, sarcastically, and turned to Harry. “How could you, Harry?” He accused. Harry knew they were making fun of him, and moved the subject away from himself as he fought the blush that was threatening to spread across his face.

“How do you two know so much about it, anyway?” He returned the accusation, and felt his plan was foiled as Remus and Sirius grinned at him.

“We-”

They were cut off, as Mrs Weasley walked into the kitchen to begin preparing lunch.

“Hello, Harry dear.” She said kindly to the young man, as Harry stood and made his way over to help her cook. “Oh, no need for that.” She waved him away. “Go and get some more rest; Hermione told me you didn't sleep very well last night. Just come down and get some sandwiches when you wake up.” She smiled, and watched Harry leave the kitchen before turning to the cupboard to fetch what she needed.

Sirius pouted as his godson left, and turned to strike up a conversation with a similarly disappointed Remus in order to alleviate any suspicion before he followed his godson to investigate.

  
  



End file.
